Skald part 2

"How unlikely." Drake thought staring at the seed.  It could have been a speck of dirt, dust, a hair cleaved and floating from one of the previous battles, strands of an ornamental feather, the air down in that hall was thick, and cold and ready carried the dead bits of the living was well as dried sweat, blood and skin, but this tiny thing, white filament treelike in shape but light and fragile enough to catch the slightest motion of the air and to carry it's precious cargo, a tiny brown skin containing the potential to find soil, make root, burrow into rock, explore a fault, drive itself into foundation, crumble all that was unnaturally made and reclaim this hall to the forest.  It was power.

It didn't belong here but here it had come reminding the dragon king of Skald that from tiny things great things were made and unmade.  Below him, his lords, his lady seemed unaware, unchanged from kingsday to kingsday.  Though they gathered in their armor, as normal, showing their strength in action or lack of action. Though they stood in usual places and barking and crooning, showing off or keeping still, the room had a strange taste that day.

Drake licked his lips still gazing at the little brown seedling resting on his finger, and with a slight roll of his shoulder the mantle and cloak to slipped down to the seat of the Dragon encrusted throne. The dais he was on towered half the height of the hall and when Drake stood his massive figure was hallowed by the soft blue lights cast from the glowing stones.  Leaping graceful to the floor he landed cat like between the young men. Most in the hall gasped in awe and excitement, as their statue-god-king sprung to life and stood among them.  Tempius pulled itself back away from its master with a hiss and Lady chuckled softly at the demon.

"Something is different." Drake said at first to the seedling and then he looked over at each of the two younger lords.  With a flick of his fingers the seedling floated away.  The challenger wore a helmet of black iron as much to hide his youth as to protect his head.  A sparse beard of some red and tan hairs coated his chin.  Tall and thin under his layers of leather and chain, an eagle clutching a serpent was pounded into the meat of the leather across his now puffed up chest.

 "This is not about respect or insult." Drake decided.

"But my king, he-" the challenger began and the rest of his words froze in his throat as the king turned his full attention on the young lord.  There was no malice on Drake's face, no look of anger or threat, he regarded his young lord more like an unusual insect that one might observe before crushing.

"Tell me I'm wrong." Drake said gently, his hand reached out and rested on the shoulder of the youth and he breathed in through his nose tasting the secrets in the air between the two men.  "You stink of Envy."  Chin upraised, battle ready and locked by the kings grip on his shoulder the young lord said nothing watching his kings expression carefully hoping to be given enough warning to defend himself.  Drake released his grip and gave what was for Drake, a gentle push that sent the young lord staggering back.  The the Skald forgot him, turning his eyes to the other lord.  The Young challenger was wise enough to continue to back away to the shelter of the onlooking lords, and though dismissed he'd be sure to regale all for a fortnight how the king touched him.

The challenged stood absolutely still as one who finds himself standing in a pit of vipers.  He kept his hands out and clear away from his blades, he was helm less and anxious sweat trickled from clomps  of dark sweat soaked hair.  There were fresh cuts in the leather over his left arm, and a missing patch at his side, where chain covered bruised flesh.  "My King." his said with a desperate reverence attempting to bow.

"You are abnormally unpopular today Tarquin." Drake said acknowledging the bow.  "To be challenged once on a kingsday brings a certain level of respectability to the winner, to be challenged twice..." Drake didn't finish his sentence.  He looked to his hand but the seed was gone.  Ice blue eyes cut through the air scanning this peculiar lord.  "To be so unliked is a dangerous thing in Skald.  These men and this woman are your brothers and sister, to be ready to come to your defense should the Canus Witch choose to make you her prey...yet today hasn't been about sharpening your skills but tearing you down Tarquin.  In front of me.  Endangering your protectorate."

"I am innocent of Roid's charges and I was innocent of Holster's My king, and my steel is ready to prove it." Tarquin said carefully.  Drake was a head taller and half a man wider than most of his lords and this close to Tarquin the younger lord seemed a child next to him.

"Innocent of the charges perhaps.  But Innocent Tarquin?"  Drake breathed in through his nose again, nostrals flared and condemned. "I think you have sinned Tarquin."

"My King!" Tarquin exclaimed horrified.  "I would not-"

"But you have, Tarquin, and they know it.  They know something I do not.  You bother my brood, they want to take you down a peg, because you have placed yourself above them somehow.  But how, Tarquin, how have you strayed from the path?"

"My king I do not know." Tarquin said in earnest, he looked around at the lords.  Tempius gazed pitieously at him the way he might a condemned man.  Lady shifted no longer bored, but anxious now, waiting for the blood to spill.

"You have aquired something Tarquin, haven't you?" Drake said looking up in the air as he began putting the pieces of the day together.  "Something worth defending, fighting for.  Twice in one day if need be, something distracting, something special."

"I.." Tarquin started to defend himself and stopped, shoulders rolled down in resignation. "I've a right to keep what I alone salvaged." The lord looked over at Tempius who tenderly clutched the book of law.

"Yes, yes, ofcourse." Tempius backed him up with an encouraging nod. "If you came across something in need of your protection, if you are strong enough to keep and hold it, the law of salvage is quite clear."

"But my dear lord, the brood around you is uncertain about your strength to hold this new property of yours." Drake opened his arms to the room.  His expression one of a father's pride over his children.

"But I have proved myself in battle today." Tarquin spoke to the other lords.  "And I am content to proove myself again to any one else who needs a lesson on the strength of the Tarquin axe."

"I am not that content.  I need that strength at Wail Stone.  I need a man I trust at the edge of the mists and Canus.  For this reason this salvage that is making you so unpopular, has now become my property." Drake told the man with care.  Tarquin's eyes flashed with anger.  "Unless you'd like to challenge me to prove my strength?"

There was a tight moment in the hall.  Many longed to see their king in a blur of motion unshieth his singing blade and paint the dragon tiles red.  Tarquin bowed in defeat much to their dissapointment.

"Forgive me my king.  My sin was not presenting her to you when I found her.  Accept this gift now."  Tarquin said while still bowed.

"Send for this precious thing and both my brood, and my mood shall be content young Tarquin." Drake said with a warm smile.  "I have had enough of kingsday.  unless there is anyone else whose challenging need is greater than your kings wish to retire, I suggest you exit the hall."